


Don't Tell Me Why

by legendarytobes



Series: Satan, M.D. [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Deckerstar - Freeform, F/M, Lucifer's a doctor in this one, but he's still satan, pilot retelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23602480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendarytobes/pseuds/legendarytobes
Summary: An alternate universe version of Pilot/Stay Lucifer, Good Devil in which Lucifer is a disgraced doctor who does concierge work for the rich and/or shady in Los Angeles, and crooked cop Daniel Espinoza calls him in a panic after his partner has been shot trying to question suspected murderer Jimmy Barnes.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Satan, M.D. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698934
Comments: 86
Kudos: 166





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a chat at FH in which people were saying that the show _Rush_ was a lot like _Lucifer_ , just except the character Rush isn't Satan. So, the cracky idea came up of what if Lucifer had eventually gotten interested in medicine and had spent untold years trying to save the humans he got the terrible rap for hurting and trying to push toward sin.
> 
> Whelp, this would be it. It isn't a crossover, more like a bit of a fusion, as it takes a few structural ideas from _Rush_ but is strictly a Lucifer AU.

**Chapter One**

The high was never enough.

Lucifer Morningstar had to inhale inhuman amounts of cocaine to even come close to feeling a buzz. Granted, if he didn’t get everything comped to him free by Mazikeen with her hustle, even he’d be bankrupt by now, despite the rates he charged for his services. Curse of a Celestial metabolism. However, he had enough to get at least some fleeting high and more left currently. Spreading out the line of coke on his lovely guest’s stomach, Lucifer rolled up one of the sheets from his prescription pads. He might not be able to catch human diseases, but dollar bills were filthy and using them instead was unfathomable. Bending low, he grinned up at the redhead and snorted another line.

What a bloody brilliant Friday.

And then his mobile rang.

Groaning to himself, he wished he could ignore the ring, but he couldn’t. The ring tone was from the original _Star Trek_ , and he’d set it that way to let him know when his assistant-slash-personal secretary, Miss Lopez, was calling him. She knew he was taking off tonight. If she were calling, then it was a case that couldn’t wait.

“Uh, sorry, darling,” he offered. Damn, if he remembered the redhead’s name. “Have to take this. Doctor’s work is never done.”

He excused himself and grabbed his mobile from the island in the kitchen and strode to the bedroom part of his presidential suite. Flicking his phone to answer, he breathed a long sigh of annoyance at Miss Lopez. “This better be good.”

“Gee, like you too, Morningstar,” she chirped. Miss Lopez was one of the only people on earth he’d let speak to him like this, and she both knew that and abused the fact. Cheeky woman. “You’ve got a huge case. It’s Daniel Espinoza. He says he was following a lead with his suspended partner. She got shot, and he can’t call it in officially or she’ll end up losing her badge completely.”

“Lucifer!” the redhead mewled from the living room. “I’m getting cold in here!”

He grumbled to himself. Of course, Detective Espinoza would be calling. That man had been nothing but trouble since he’d first agreed to help patch up his _last_ partner at an abandoned boxing ring. Well, as much as even Lucifer could manage. As far as he knew that crooked bastard who’d clearly fucked with the wrong mobster out in the City of Angels was still on a ventilator. It didn’t surprise him that Espinoza’s current partner wasn’t faring any better.

“Miss Lopez, I am not a miracle worker.” Most of the time. “Did you explain to him for wounds that extensive, it would be best if he just called the ambulance and braced for the consequences.”

“He promised fifty thousand in cash once he got to the evidence locker back at the precinct. It’s a good night’s haul, boss.”

Lucifer sighed. The truth was, he’d have gone either way. With the characters he tended to treat as a concierge to those willing to pay upfront and in cash, well, he did tend to run afoul of the law occasionally. The more friends he had in blue, the easier it was to skate away from unseemly complications.

“Give me the address.”

He memorized it as Miss Lopez recited it, and figured it was good for Det. Espinoza that it was at a recording studio of all places, only a few miles from his hotel. If his partner was in as bad shape as Espinoza said she was, then time was of the essence. Lucifer would have flown there, but he had a feeling he’d be needing the extensive amount of supplies in his Corvette to help with the case.

“Good then, I have a guest in my room.”

“When don’t you?” Miss Lopez chided on her end.

“Please help see her out. I’d rather she not assume I do overnight guest. Also, let Espinoza know I’m on the way. Oh, also remind him that this is an unusual service I’m doing, and he’d best pay me once he smuggles the bills from the evidence locker. No one wants to welch on the Devil.”

Miss Lopez groaned on the other end. “Never get tired of that Schtick, boss. Just go, okay?”

“You have my word that the very hounds of Hell couldn’t slow me down.”

**

Lucifer had seen many things in his immortal life. He’d led a rebellion after all, and he’d spent eons torturing humans in Hell. Carnage wasn’t foreign to him, so he knew when he dragged his medical bag and one of his biggest cases into the recording studio with him that he was walking into an utter shit show. In the far side of the room, a balding, fat man---was that Jimmy Barnes the record executive---was curled on his side with his arms handcuffed behind him. One of the glass walls of the recording booth had been shot through, and blood splattered the jagged edges of shattered glass. Before him on the floor, Espinoza had taken off his leather jacket and was desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood emanating from his partner’s chest.

The Devil blinked, his eidetic memory filling in the details he’d squirreled away a few weeks ago when he’d been questioned as the last person to see Delilah alive. He hadn’t had any faith that Espinoza---whom he secretly thought of as Detective Douche in his head---and the female cop with the stick up her ass would be able to find the real killer, to realize it had been more than part of the usual gang crimes in the city. She’d certainly not brooked to any of his charms, even if he’d found her rather breathtaking.

Prettiest detective he’d ever seen, even if also one of the most serious and uncompromising.

Right now, she was deathly pale, and her breathing was shallow.

Getting to his knees, Lucifer eyed Espinoza. “I need you to move.”

“I have to keep pressure on it!”

“I can’t bloody well stitch her up, if I can’t reach her wounds, can I?”

“I…that’s my wife!” Espinoza floundered. “I…she’s the mother of my child. You can’t let her die.”

“And, Detective Espinoza, I can’t do my job if you don’t move,” Lucifer reminded him and tried to keep his expression implacable as he regarded the fallen detective.

Odd, he could have sworn she’d gone by Decker during their interview. Maybe she’d kept her maiden name? Who knew? He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, as he regarded the wound. It was a miracle that she was even alive now. One of Barnes’s bullets had gone wide and left no more than a flesh wound as it had grazed her left shoulder. The second was embedded deeply in her left chest and as Lucifer pulled on his gloves and then used surgical scissors to cut away her shirt and then her bra. He grabbed gauze after gauze to try and clear the area around the wound, and his heart sank when he analyzed the damage.

Fucking left ventricle.

The bullet seemed to be lodged there.

It really was a miracle---not that he believed in those; the Devil knew better---she wasn’t dead by now.

“What…what should I do?” Espinoza asked, leaning over and crowding his light.

Lucifer took a steady breath and fervently wished he’d snorted a few more lines before rushing over. He was not energized enough for this mess. And he’d promised he wouldn’t…

He was about to tell Espinoza that there was literally nothing _anyone_ could do, and that it was best to call the ambulance to take her body to the morgue because she’d be dead soon enough, when Detective Decker coughed and blinked up at him. His breath caught in this throat because her eyes were even more lovely than he remembered, more striking even as they welled with tears.

“Please…my Trixie.”

It was all she could get out before coughing up blood and passing out again.

“Her what?”

“Our daughter,” Espinoza supplied.

Bloody hell, how exactly was he supposed to say no to that?

He’d promised he’d try. Lucifer hadn’t sworn off this particular trick in his arsenal yet. “Get to my car.”

“What?”

“I have cases of supplies there. If you want to save your wife, you need to start grabbing something heavy and hauling it in here. Go!”

Espinoza, even in his shock, mobilized at that command and hurried out the door and to the elevators. It would take him time to get back, especially weighed down with Lucifer’s medical gear. That would be more than enough for what he needed. Rolling his shoulders, Lucifer let his wings out. The studio was fairly narrow, and the tips of each wing grazed the walls. No matter. Reaching up, he yanked a long primary from its place and set it over Detective Decker’s chest. It wasn’t something he was supposed to do, literally drawing a human back from death’s door, but he’d gone to this well before. Perhaps too often over the span of his long life, and he’d never been one to heed Dad’s rules before.

Obviously.

Pushing the feather tightly to her chest, Lucifer closed his eyes and Willed the healing to start. A flash of heavenly light engulfed the room, and he arched his back, shunting his wings away again. When he opened his eyes again, the feather had grown dull and grey, withered in on itself. He pushed it aside, and then reached for the iodine and more gauze to help clean the detective’s former wound of blood. She was breathing more steadily now, which was a good sign, along with the lack of hole in her chest. Lucifer pulled out some thread and a needle and quickly started stitching her up. He needed the pretense of something to try and hide exactly how she’d healed. She’d been out of it for the duration, and he was wagering that Espinoza would be too grateful to question things any further.

Not that it mattered much. Even if Espinoza made such a leap, no other human would believe that the literal Devil had used the last of his divine powers to save Detective Decker. Hell, humans hadn’t really believed in the Devil since the Salem Witch Trials. He’d know on that score.

Still, best to cover his tracks in the mortal realm just a bit. So, he continued to stitch and was halfway through a line about seven inches long across her sternum when Espinoza exploded back into the room, carrying at least three cases with him.

“I…you got the bullet?”

Lucifer nodded. “In a manner of speaking.” Not technically a lie. “I can call an ambulance, know a guy who has his own private deal. You can take her anywhere. If you want a second opinion.”

“She wasn’t supposed to be my back-up,” Espinoza admitted. “She only came because we thought it would be a quick set of questions with him. Then, he opened fire and the musicians here fled. I…she got caught in the crossfire. I explained to that Ella chick---”

“Yes, you don’t want her to lose her badge,” Lucifer replied as he finished careful stitching. “I would advise that after such trauma, she be seen by the types of doctors who reside in an actual hospital. I’m good; I’m not Jesus Christ here.” Also couldn’t be more true. “My man is quite discreet.”

“No,” Espinoza said. “I called you for a reason.”

“That Malcolm chap went to the hospital after, right?” Lucifer said, standing up and peeling off his gloves. Rummaging through his case, he pulled out a mint green scrub tub and then set to helping shove back over the detective and preserving some sense of modesty between doctor and patient. “I really think it’s best if she be under observation overnight.”

His feathers had never failed before, and yet, this woman needed to be looked after. He could feel it in his bones. Lucifer was nervous he’d mucked a healing up this time. Odd that. He never got but so involved with his cases before. Well, except for Miss Lopez, but that was an exception.

“She’ll lose her job, man.”

Lucifer nodded and settled the detective back to the floor, her head nestled on Espinoza’s leather jacket. “What’s her first name?”

“Chloe.”

Lucifer nodded and reaching out delicately stroked her cheek. “Chloe? Chloe, love, can you hear me?”

She sighed and stirred, blinking those wide blue eyes of hers back at him. “You’re…you’re that insufferable ex-plastic surgeon from the hotel bar.”

“I am also a concierge,” Lucifer said tightly. “And an excellent one. You, Detective Decker, had one Hell of a scare. You’re stable, but your, ahem, _partner_ says that you’d rather skip a visit in hospital. I’d rather advise against it, but you’re stable. I can check in on you tomorrow as a house call if you prefer.”

She glared over his shoulder at Espinoza. “You called this idiot?”

“Chloe, I didn’t have a choice. If you went to the hospital, then the precinct and Monroe would know you were working without your badge. I…I was trying to think of your career.”

Her stare become downright icy, and she spoke next in a clipped tone. “That would be novel for a change.”

“I’m sorry about Palmetto and---”

Detective Decker tried to sit up too fast and grabbed her head, moaning a little. She shuddered and would have fallen back to the ground if Lucifer hadn’t caught her and cradled her to his chest.

He offered her a grin and stroked her golden hair back from her face, “Well, darling, if you wanted an embrace, you only had to ask.”

She swallowed and then pushed away. “Unbelievable. I…Dan, can you help me to my feet?”

Espinoza nodded, and Lucifer reluctantly passed her over to her husband. Why that word rankled him so, Lucifer couldn’t tell. Shakily, Detective Douche helped Detective Decker to her feet. She wobbled again but blanched when she saw the bloodied shreds of her blouse.

“I…I didn’t realize it had been that bad. I was pretty out of it.”

He’d say, and that was fortunate enough. Lucifer didn’t much care what humans thought of him one way or another, had outgrown that long ago and once human superstition had died out. If he had been bothered by it, of course, he’d have chosen any other moniker. But it was a pain in the arse to deal with a human rendered mute and drooling by the sight of his wings.

“Yes, Detective Decker, you came rather close to dying. You’re lucky you had me here,” he smirked at that. Easiest to tease a bit; it would break up the tension among them, get any suspicion away from him. “Most women find that they are.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Thank you, Dr. Morningstar. Glad to see I was wrong about you, at least somewhat back at the hotel. I still think you’re an egomaniacal idiot with quite a pair on you.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the p in the word. “They’re still rather average.”

Espinoza’s jaw clenched. “Excuse me?”

“But you’re a better doctor than I’d have thought, especially with the articles I found on you.”

“I did keep my license and was cleared of all charges by the California Medical Board,” Lucifer countered, his tone tight. He’d been an excellent doctor since any of the review board had even been born and then some.

“Yes, well, thank you. I’ll take you up on that offer. You can house call me in a day or two, when this settles. I…” she bit her lower lip and looked at Espinoza. “I can’t be here. I need to get home so there’s plausible deniability before you call back up to get Barnes settled at the station.”

Lucifer shrugged and then grinned like the cat who ate the canary. His megawatt smile tended to put most women and quite a few men at ease, make them putty in his hands. “Oh, darling, I brought my Corvette. I’d happily give you a ride home.”

“I was thinking Uber,” she snapped.

He frowned. Strange. His charm worked on almost everyone. Well, not Miss Lopez, but she’d been exposed to the divine by virtue of his sister Azrael since she was eight. It made her a bit of an oddball when it came to dealing with the supernatural. (Not that Miss Lopez was in on much of the Celestial comings and goings as Azrael was stubborn about pretending even _now_ to be a so-called ghost around Ella.) Still, it was evident from her narrowed eyes and pinched expression that Detective Decker was not swayed by him at all.

How utterly baffling.

“You’re still covered in blood, Detective. Do be reasonable. It’s no bother, and it will give me a chance to observe you for a bit longer, ensure I did a bang up job stitching you up.” He shrugged. “Probably impossible that I buggered it up. I’m one of the best surgeons in the country, I’ll have you know.”

He'd certainly been practicing the longest.

She sighed and looked over her top and the streaks of blood still on her neck. “Alright, but if you try and hit on me, I should let you know I still have my side arm.”

Lucifer grinned wider. “Promise to use it on me then, darling?”

“Morningstar, just take her home. I’ll make sure the rest of our arrangement is settled up after I take Barnes in,” Espinoza said, gesturing with his head toward the passed out Barnes.

“Arrangement?” Detective Decker asked, frowning. It was clearly starting to occur to her that only the unsavory called on the likes of him for medical help ever. Wonder what that left her thinking of her sooty cop husband. “You need to tell me what’s going on, Dan. What did you promise in return?”  
  


“Money, assuredly. I enjoy cold hard cash, although the occasional trade is alluring too. Don’t worry, the payment’s been arranged. Now, why don’t you get down to the car. The Corvette stands out quite obviously on its own. You and Detective _Douche_ can make sure all my bags get down there.” He straightened the lapels of his jacket. “I think I’d like a word with old Jimmy Barnes here, both on Delilah’s account and on yours.”

“Not happening,” Detective Decker said.

“Agreed, you can’t rough up a witness. That was _not_ in the agreement,” Espinoza echoed.

Lucifer shook his head. “You misunderstood me. I merely wanted a word. Delilah was a good employee before I called in a few I.O.U.’s and launched her career. She had promise in turning it all around as well. Besides, I give you my word that I won’t touch a hair on Barnes’s head, not that there are many left to ruffle. Merely a few remarks.” He inclined his head toward Espinoza. “You called me tonight. I only ask for one small thing in return.”

“Besides the money,” Detective Douche snarked.

“Well, there is that,” Lucifer replied. “I’ll knock a bit off standard fee then, just for the moment. You really have no leverage here since this little birdie,” he said, pointing to himself. “Could expose everything you two are hiding anyway.”

Detective Decker glared at him. “You can’t just take vigilante justice into your hands, Dr. Morningstar.”

“Oh, just Lucifer, love.”

“Doctor,” she countered. “I don’t trust you not to hurt him.”

“You should thank me if I did. The homunculus tried to murder you not an hour ago.”

“And he’ll go to trial like he’s supposed to.”

Lucifer shrugged. This one was stubborn. How odd to also find a cop in Los Angeles who still believed in actual good and proper procedure. Eventually, those notions had to die out. He’d seen idealists before; they rarely lasted.

“A few words. Just get things packed up. Besides, Detective. You don’t know me well…yet, but I always keep my words. Not a scratch on him.”

Detective Douche rolled his eyes even as he grabbed up a couple of cases in his arms. “You have till we get back to talk. You break anything man, your ass is grass.”

“Quite,” Lucifer said, amused a bit by how little Espinoza understood about what he was dealing with.

Detective Decker seemed to want to argue with everything, but her husband half-led, half-dragged her out before she could say more. Good. He needed to get to the Devil’s business, after all.

When they were gone, Lucifer turned and strode to where Barnes lay at the far end of the room. He yanked the sorry miscreant up by his lapels and yelled at him. Pity he couldn’t lay a hand on him, but he’d promised after all, and the Devil never reneged on a deal. “Wake up, Jimmy!”

The troll of a man blinked up at him and stilled. “It’s you! I told you, you stay away from me, you freak!”

Lucifer let out a low whistle. “Would that I could, but you deserve to get a preview of the show my brother, Amenadiel, will be putting on for you when you finally get there. Oh, all the punishments you’ll be reaping in.”

“What? What crazy shit are you spewing now?”

The Devil turned toward the mirrored wall of the studio and forced Jimmy to look. “Delilah was a good woman. She lost her way, but you took her redemption from her. Detective Decker seems like a decent cop, a moral one, and one of a precious few out here. A rat like you shouldn’t have been allowed to harm either of them. Deep down, you know you’re nothing but an inveterate sinner. And,” he said, his voice taking on a low growl. “You know exactly where you’ll go.”

His face flickered and the scarred visage that had been forced on him since his fall---complete with burning eyes and long, fearsome horns---came into view. Jimmy started to scream, but Lucifer held him tighter, forced him to look at the mirror before them.

“You know where you’re going, Jimbo, and it’s going to be one hot ride.”

Barnes started to scream, an ear piercing wail that was painful enough to Lucifer’s Celestial hearing that he almost wondered if it had been worth it to put the fear of, well, _himself_ in the clod. “You’re the Devil!”

He gave his horrid reflection a final glance and willed his glamor over it. Back to alabaster skin and only slightly ruffled dark hair. At his feet, Jimmy Barnes was curled into the fetal position and shaking almost as hard as he would if he were in flat out grand mal convulsions.

“That I am, Jimmy Barnes, and you’re going to Hell.”

Detective Douche arrived back up the stairs, just as Lucifer had settled his medicine bag over his shoulder and picked up his final case of equipment. The cop looked between him and the mewling mess who had once been Jimmy Barnes.

“Christ!” he screamed, as he rushed for the murderer. “What did you do?”

“Not a hair on his head. Can’t be helped if the wretch went round the bend all on his own.”

“Man, he’s a gibbering mess!”

Lucifer shrugged and turned to the door. “He’s lucky that’s _all_ he is. Detective Douche, don’t forget my payment, make it forty thousand. Generous fellow that I am, I’m going to knock off ten grand for allowing me alone time with that homunculus. By the way, I’ll be expecting the money handed off to my assistant at our office by tomorrow night. Ask Jimmy-boy over there. It won’t end well for you if you welch on a deal with the Devil.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chloe is escorted home by Lucifer.

**Chapter Two**

Lucifer hurried into view, carrying a heavy medical case with ease, as he stalked to the Corvette. Chloe studied him. The only other time she’d met him, he’d been insufferably smug (not that he wasn’t that currently) and offering her a plethora of non-answers about Delilah and about himself. Her research had only confirmed her suspicions, considering he’d been fired from his partnership at a high-priced and generally well-respected L.A. plastic surgery practice after a patient had died under questionable circumstances and cocaine had been found in his system. A few other abnormalities were noted on the testing, but she assumed it was because there wasn’t a limit to the amount of chemicals he’d snort. Still, her overall opinion of Dr. Morningstar was that he was trouble.

She didn’t doubt that opinion now, even after he’d saved her life.

Her hands trailed over the stitches and the skin underneath that seemed far too clean and untouched after Lucifer had supposedly done impromptu life-saving surgery. But she _was alive_ , and she’d be living to see Trixie again. (Her daughter was over at Dan’s mother’s for the night.) It was more than she’d ever gotten with her dad. So, for once, she’d park that part of her detective’s brain that kept telling her something was wrong, that he shouldn’t have been able to save her.

It was the same part of her brain insisting she had no business going to a hospital to get checked out because it _would_ get back to the precinct, and she’d be without a job.

Didn’t make her mess of confused feelings where Dr. Morningstar was concerned easier to sift through. He wasn’t trustworthy---and of course Dan had made some shady monetary arrangement with Lucifer over all this---and his medical record was spotty at best, no matter what the state of California’s medical board eventually decreed. And yet, she was alive, and most of her didn’t care the reasoning behind that.

Lucifer finished with settling his equipment in the trunk and finally slid into the front seat beside her. “Detective, I’d advise you put on your seatbelt. Your left shoulder may still be sore---”

She frowned at him, even as she grabbed for the seatbelt buckle. “Actually, I don’t feel badly at all. If anything, I feel kind of energized.”

Lucifer’s jaw clenched a bit as he started his car. Eventually, he relaxed and added, “Perhaps that’s the adrenaline, the post-trauma rush. You’ve had quite a night.”

She narrowed her eyes at him even as he pulled off at alarming speed from the curb and toward downtown. “I live out by Brentwood, well, now I do.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Well, isn’t that interesting? I have a dear friend, former colleague, who lives out there as well. Of course, she makes far more than a cop’s salary. Then again, knowing Espinoza, I assume you may also take more in on the job than just the base salary. More’s the pity. I did have you pegged initially as a straight arrow. In Los Angeles, that’s terribly hard to find. Rare.”

Chloe glared at him. “I am _not_ on the take. I would never do that, and Dan isn’t either.”

At least, she’d never seen proof he was. However, he did sometimes buy toys for Trixie for Christmas or her birthday that they’d had arguments over, things she didn’t think they could afford. But yet, they’d just showed up. The thought that he’d maybe been pinching things here or there had crept into the back of her mind, but it just couldn’t be. Wouldn’t she know?

_Just like you weren’t completely surprised that Dan had L.A.’s shadiest doctor on speed dial?_

She shook her head, as if that could clear her thoughts as easily. It couldn’t…she’d deal with it later, just like being on suspension already, and the wound in her shoulder that wasn’t quite, and…

“Well, I happen to know that real estate in Brentwood is far from cheap. What other conclusion am I left to make?” He glanced a look at her but still managed to stay focused on the road. “What’s your secret? How do you afford such a place?”

“I don’t,” she admitted. “My mother offered me her place. I crash on the couch and Trixie is taking the guest bedroom for a while now. L.A. is way too expensive, and I didn’t want to deal with hunting for an apartment while everything was going on at work and with the separation.”

Lucifer seemed to perk up at that. This time, he turned his whole head toward her as he took an exit out to the 405. “Do tell? I assumed you were still fully committed to holy matrimony. Espinoza referred to you as his wife?”

Her right hand clenched her outer thigh, digging in a bit in her frustration and anger. “Don’t think of anything as an invite, Lucifer.”

“Oh, I don’t, but it’s quite the tidbit to file away for later.”

“Dan and I are still married. It’s just been tense lately,” _Or for the last eight months._ “…and I needed time to think.”

“I see,” Lucifer said, smirking but at least focusing on the road and not on her.

“Anyway, my mother had the space so that’s how it worked out.”

“And what does she do?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. Explaining her mother’s vocation was complicated. Most of the time, people laughed at some of the titles of the films she’d made. That was usually the best reaction. The worst of it was when someone _did know_ and was secretly some fanboy who wanted to then tell her how The Vampire Queen had rocked their world as teenagers. Info she so did not need to know.

“She’s an actress, kind of.”

Lucifer shrugged. “She must do well enough for that zip code.”

“She’s Penelope Decker, alright?” Chloe groused. “I doubt you’ve seen her films. Her most famous stuff---being generous---was from the early ‘80s.”

Lucifer brightened and glanced at her again. “That Penelope Decker? The Vampire Queen, oh I remember when her first film came out. It was complete shlock but utterly enjoyable.” His eyes widened. “Oh, well that is something, isn’t it?”

She swallowed hard. That look she knew too. Thanks to Netflix and her dumb-ass one theatrical film being on it for the last couple years, Chloe got that look more often than she wanted lately.

“Oh God.”

Lucifer dug his hands tighter onto the steering wheel. “We do not mention Him here. Dad has very little to do with anything.”

And right. For all his lazy playboy ways and love of narcotics---clearly---Dr. Lucifer Morningstar (and how had he ever passed anything?) was also insane or, at least, pathetically dedicated to his Devil persona. Jesus, she must have been flatlining if Dan had been desperate enough to call such a batshit crazy option.

“Fine, but just…just don’t say it.”

He grinned and practically crowed, “I knew you looked familiar back when you interrogated me. I knew it! You were in that lovely little piece of cinema called _Hot Tub High School_ , weren’t you? That was also delightful if a bit derivative of _Fast Times at Ridgemont High_. Phoebe Cates had nothing on you.”

Her fingers dug even deeper into her thigh. “Yes, you’ve seen me naked. How great for you.”

Lucifer frowned and seemed to consider that quietly before he spoke. “To be fair, I saw you without your top on just tonight, and this is neither here nor there, but you’ve held up spectacularly, especially considering you’ve spawned.”

“Excuse me?”

“Spawn? You have a child, and what kind of name is ‘Trixie’ for a kid? Sounds like a hooker’s name if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” she snapped. “And it’s short for ‘Beatriz,’ which is Dan’s mother’s name, and why am I still even talking to you?”

“Because we have a stretch before I drop you off at home, and honestly, Detective, I am actually encouraged and glad you are both awake and speaking coherently. It speaks well to your recovery and prognosis. I’d have tried to keep you awake at either rate, but keeping you annoyed and chatting seems to work rather well.”

She blinked. “You’re needling me to make sure I’m not dead?”

“Or at least not slipping into shock.” He shrugged again as the wind down the 405 shoved his unruly hair all over the place. “Bully for you. You seem sharp as ever.”

“Anyway, I guess that’s all you really need to know about me. More than you ever needed to know. Mom’s been great about giving me a place to stay, and Dan…what did you even ask from Dan?”

“I thought we established that cold, hard cash was in the offing, darling?”

“Do _not_ call me that.” Curious, she leaned forward and dug into his glove box. She snorted when she found the contents. On one hand, she was far from shocked to find the baggie of coke and a few, stray blunts. If they were meeting again under any other circumstances, she’d arrest him for that much drug paraphernalia, but he’d saved her life and, much as it pained her to let infractions go, she had no right to pull out the handcuffs on him now. However, she did _not_ expect the literal piles of burned CDs in the glove box either. “Wow that’s…”

“Yes, I have a bit of a pharmacy in my car. Don’t be surprised.”

“No, I mean CDs. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone who still has these in like years.”

He rolled his eyes and picked one up, swerving a little in the lane and giving her a heart attack when they just missed a pick-up next to them. Lucifer shoved the CD in the player and pressed play. Soon, some 80s pop she didn’t really recognize was blaring on the radio. Possibly the Bangles; she wasn’t sure.

“I never took much to those i-Thingies. I don’t have a smart phone either. Believe me, my assistant Ella has been all over me to convert from the basic mobile, and I hardly see the point.”

The CD chose then to skip on a couple of lines, crooning out about an eternal flame on a loop, until Chloe extracted it, blew on it, and shoved it back in. It wasn’t really going to help long term, but it did smooth out playing the song for now at least.

“MP3’s don’t skip.”  
  


“And I’m a busy bloke, don’t have time to convert to the newest mechanical whatnot.”

“Doing things for the rich and the seedy?”

“You should be thankful that Daniel called me. I’m quite the miracle worker, Detective.”

“How much?”

“Come again,” he asked, side eyeing her, even though they both knew exactly what she meant.

“How much does Dan owe you? There’s no way he can pay your fees. Most of L.A. knows about you and it’s all very infamous.”

He brought one hand to his chest and grinned. If he weren’t such an asshole, she’d almost find the look charming. Almost. As it was, she found his smarmy act repulsive on a chemical level. “Famous, darling. Lucifer Morningstar is assuredly famous, not just merely infamous. Also, the exact amount is between me and my client. You’re the patient, sure, but Detective Douche is the one who will be providing the dosh.”

“He’s not dirty,” she huffed.

“Are you rather sure about that.”

She sighed and watched the side of the road, gesturing to the exit for her mother’s neighborhood. “I’m not, but I just…I didn’t die tonight, that’s all I can go on for now. I don’t want to know how much you charged him or how he’s finding that kind of money. I think I’ve known for a while, especially since he was Malcolm Graham’s partner and I _know_ for sure that Graham was crooked as they come. I just…for Trixie’s sake, I didn’t want to believe it. She deserves better.”

“He did this particular bit of dirty deed to save your life, Detective. There should be some cold comfort in that.” Lucifer surprised her a little by dropping his right hand from the steering wheel and patting her shoulder awkwardly before putting in back where it had started from. “Besides, you’re what? Forty?”

She rolled her eyes and turned from the scenery to glare at him. “Thirty-four.”

“Yes, but the point still stands that you’re far too old to be naïve about how the world works.”

“I’m not, but I want more from the people in my life, from the man I’m supposed to trust, than to have him dealing with shady thieves.”

Lucifer bristled at that. “I don’t steal. I provide a service. I don’t ask how people can afford me, as long as they can. It’s not my place to ask, and it serves me well not to. But I take care of all patients equally well, and sometimes, Detective, even the most unscrupulous people in the City of Angels deserve care as well. Isn’t it like your job?”

“I don’t work for the highest bidder like a glamorized medical hooker,” she shot back.

His hands tightened so much on the steering wheel that for a moment, she had the impossible thought that something had cracked. “I’m not.”

“You’re hardly respected.”

“I’m needed, and tonight I was needed for you. Besides, when you’re called to a crime scene, even if it’s a spot of gang violence and the victim has been embroiled in underworld activities, you still do your best to find their killed and bring that miscreant to justice, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, when one of my clients calls me, I do the same. I took an oath, and I hold that sacrosanct. I care for my patients, even if others do not.”

She considered that even as her own grip on her thighs relaxed. Damn it. He had here there. “Yes, I guess so.”

His eyes almost seemed to flash brighter for a moment, but that had to be a trick of the street lamps overhead. That and her impossible exhaustion and fear as the adrenaline wore out. “I am no one’s whore, Detective, medical or otherwise. The only person I work for is myself. Believe me, getting this far came at great cost.”

“Oh, I’ve heard.”

“You haven’t even an idea of it,” Lucifer said. He turned where she indicated, and they were winding down the road that would end in her mother’s beach house. “Besides, what is it you desire, deep down? Espinoza clearly has peccadillos, nasty little bits of greed that made him probably closer to his old partner’s schemes than he should have been.”

“I’ll bet. Dan and I are going to have the longest conversation once I’m well enough to scream at him. I can’t even.”

“Yes, but I have to wonder about you. My first impression remains correct and you’re as straight an arrow as the LAPD can offer. Foolish that. Detective Douche isn’t the only boy in blue and hardly the highest ranking one with me on speed dials to help messes go away. You’re probably far too idealistic for them.”

“My dad worked for them. He was a good man. I’m a good person, so we can’t be the only two who ever worked there. Don’t be such a cynic.”

He shrugged and pulled to the curb outside of her mother’s bungalow. “Comes with the territory. Medical work and all that. I have seen more death than you’d realize.”

“Didn’t think that came from vacuuming out L.A.’s most vapid.”

Lucifer’s lips curled into a bitter smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I had residencies once. I wasn’t always that type of surgeon, and I’m hardly that now.”

She frowned, looking up at him, at the sincerity and regret in his dark eyes. Why even work so hard to become a doctor and let drug addiction and only God knew what else drag him down and out of it?

“Alright, so cynically you’re probably right and the LAPD isn’t what I want it to be, but someone has to change it. Someone should.”

“Admirable, try not to get swatted down for such virtues, darling.” He narrowed that gaze at her even as he unhooked his own seatbelt. “Detective, I’m rather serious. What is it you desire? Your estranged husband is transparent in his wants---that usual jockeying for money and respect. But you, what is it you’d like?”

He leaned closer to her, eyes wide and unblinking, and it was unsettling but that was all it was. Yet Lucifer kept looking at her as if something _should be happening_. Maybe he’d used this weird stare-off trick with Barnes when he’d had the alone time with him. Could be a look that intimidated some, but she wasn’t going to fold and tell him the story of her life or anything else that deep for no reason.

“That’s a lot to ask, even if I’m your patient currently and you have concerns about me.”

Lucifer blinked, seemingly startled, but the confusion was only on his face for an instant before he schooled his expression back into one of supreme arrogance. Joy. Like that was something she’d missed. “Quite,” he slid from his seat and then walked to the other side of the car to open the door. “I’d prefer checking in on you by tomorrow afternoon. You seem stable, but believe it or not, you’ve suffered quite a bit of trauma tonight. I must try again to get you to see some reason. You’d do better being seen in hospital.”

“No.”

“Yes, your suspension…but, truly, you don’t want to take chances.”

“I want to keep my job,” she replied.

His shoulders sank a bit at that. “Yes, well, then I’ll be back here by four p.m. tomorrow to do a follow up with you. Try and take it easy, and if possible, see if you can have your mother around or someone to watch you. I don’t think you’ll slip into shock, but it’s still possible.” He groused to himself as he futzed with car door handle. “Bloody stupid thing. One part of the ‘Vette even Maze’s guy couldn’t get fixed right.”

Lucifer yanked again and stilled, all color draining from his face. The door pulled open in his grasp, but Lucifer seemed trapped there, staring down at his hand.

Confused, Chloe stood up and stepped away from the car, making sure to shut the door behind her. Following Lucifer’s gaze, she stared down at his hand and at the line of blood dripping from a gash in his forefinger.

“Ouch, guess it caught on something, huh?” she offered, trying to break the tension between them. “At least you have to have basic first aid supplies in here with the impromptu MASH surgery table, right?”

Lucifer still seemed oddly pale all of a sudden, even as his Adam’s apple bobbed heavily as he swallowed. “I…yes. It wouldn’t be a bother to patch up either.” He looked back into her eyes. “I…who are you really, Detective?”

“I don’t know why you keep asking?” she said. “Weird way to check I’m still coherent. I’m Detective Chloe Decker, work for the LAPD, it’s January 25, 2016…etc. I swear I’m okay, no blacking out and no shock, at least not yet.”

He took a sharp, shallow breath and nodded. Dropping his injured hand to his side, Lucifer nodded. “Quite right, then. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Do take care and Espinoza has my number. If _anything_ changes, call me immediately. Trust me, I’ll be up anyway doing some research.”

“I think I’m going to be okay,” she replied, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Look, I still think you’re pretty much slime.”

“Ta ever so.”

“However, you saved my life. I get that if it had been any other doctor or paramedic that I’d be dead, and I can’t…I can’t do that to Trixie. So, thank you, Lucifer. I…you’re going to be okay, right?”

He quirked his head at her, and she got the disconcerting sensation of being studied like a specimen under a microscope. “Right as rain, but call me if any complications occur. Trust me, I will not be slumbering.”

She rolled her eyes, even as she headed to the door. Considering his stash of just casual use cocaine in his car, she had no doubt that Lucifer would be wired through tomorrow, so called research or not.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer recovers from his cut and then pays the Detective a follow up visit.

**Chapter Three**

He stared down at the wound. It wasn’t much. Yes, deep enough to merit a few stitches, and Lucifer was torn between pulling out the needle and thread from his medical satchel or simply waiting and hoping for his Celestial healing to kick in. However, the ruddy car handle shouldn’t have dug into his skin at all. If it weren’t a Celestial weapon, a Hell forged blade, or an arse kicking from his idiot brother Amenadiel, then he shouldn’t bleed at all. In hundreds of years on earth, it had certainly never happened before.

Lucifer slumped onto the sofa in front half of his suite and stared at the slowing trickle of blood as if it held the mysteries of the universe. Maybe it did, if he could just parse it all out.

Something was well and truly buggered up, and it had everything to do with that lovely yet emotionally constipated Detective Decker. She’d not fallen for his charm, even when he’d deliberately dialed it up to eleven. Then, he’d failed to elicit a hint of a desire from her. It didn’t matter how stubborn or complex a human was, he could get desires out of them eventually. Not the former teenage dream of _Hot Tub High School_ , however. But bleeding? That was a bridge too far. He had futzed with that wonky door handle dozens of times, but he only drew blood with her sitting right next to it.

Quod erat demonstrandum.

Chloe Decker wasn’t a Celestial. Lucifer had a nose for any of the Host his father sent after him and, by now, with Amendiel well and truly tricked into ruling Hell in his absence, Lucifer was mostly off the hook on that end. Or at least he thought he was. He hadn’t even had much harassment from his brother since before disco died. The only angel he ever saw with any passing regularity was Azrael and, perhaps, more because she checked in every few months to make sure Ella was doing well under his watchful eye and protection. She wasn’t a demon, either. None of them would dare come to earth to fuck with him. The Infernal had long memories and while Amenadiel might be guarding the underworld currently (albeit also reluctantly), the demons remembered what _Lucifer_ had done to keep them in line when he’d first come from the lake of fire.

To be fair, he thought to himself as he collected up some gauze and wound dressing from his medical bag, there were a myriad of _other_ things the detective could be. Hell, some of the ne’er-do-wells of the other pantheons, especially Trickster gods, were notorious for siring demigods all over. She was lovely enough to be one, whether she knew it or not. Whatever she was, however, Chloe Decker was trouble.

It wouldn’t do to have to be associated with someone who could harm him, especially since Lucifer wasn’t even sure if the Detective had been trying to harm him or test him or had just been as shocked as he was.

Dad, no.

He’d just get everything patched up---the blood was almost coagulated now anyway---and give his house call tomorrow to Brentwood. Then, he’d forget he’d ever treated the Detective and tell that git Espinoza to lose his phone number. Simple.

And yet, as he drifted to sleep after several handles of Grey Goose and covering his hand in more gauze, Lucifer couldn’t shake the haunting beauty of two blue eyes staring at him with perfect trust and begging him for help.

**

“Boss, you look like shit!” Miss Lopez chirped far too cheerily for whatever time in the morning it was purporting to be. She even had the unmitigated gall to throw open the curtains and let the light in.

Lucifer blinked and, not for the first time, regretted he’d ever lit the sun. Oh, it was a thing of beauty, no doubt, but it was far from desirable when he’d drunk just enough to finally get tipsy, if only for a fleeting moment. Blinking blearily up at her, Lucifer sighed and eyed his hand. The makeshift bandage was shoddy work at best, and crunchy with dried blood, but he’d at least stopped gushing finally some time after he’d passed out.

Thank the universe for small favors.

Miss Lopez finished setting her laptop case on the desk she used in the far alcove of the suite/his office and tsked to herself. “Seriously, Morningstar, I mean, I’m not supposed to say anything…”

Lucifer chuckled wryly. _Not_ speaking would be a feat for Miss Lopez. It was assuredly why she’d attracted a chatterbox angel like Azrael to her in the first place. “Since when?” Grousing to himself, he stood up and slouched to his mini-bar. Vodka was gone so a Bloody Mary was out, but he was sure he still had some Tequila some place. “You speak freely all the time, Miss Lopez.”

“Cool,” she said. “Because you look real bad today. Was the thing Espinoza called you too that shitty? Crap, is the other cop even alive?”

His jaw clenched for a moment before he loosened his posture and took a draught of his Patron. It wasn’t exactly what he’d been craving, but it would have to suffice. “She is. I worked a bit of Morningstar Magic.” _And truer words had never been spoken_. “and she’s shaken up quite badly but alright. I’ll be giving her a house call later this afternoon.”

Miss Lopez bounded over to him, a bit like an overeager puppy, and rolled her eyes. He noted that today in addition to her customary jaunty ponytail, his secretary was wearing a novelty t-shirt of a unicorn flying through the cosmos with the words “Heavy Metal” written under it in pink. At first, he’d assumed that quirk of hers would extend to _any_ novelty t-shirt, but after he’d gotten her one for her first birthday working for him that was, to be fair, a slogan that would have to aspire to be more than a single entendre, Lucifer realized that Miss Lopez really was that unfailingly good. Again, like the Detective, how very odd. She truly loved wearing t-shirts that would have better fit on an eleven-year-old girl. However, he learned to find humor in the endless cuddly cat shirts and slightly sarcastic magical creature regalia.

First, she yanked the Tequila from him. Spoilsport. In deference to his sister, who was an utter coward about explaining to Ella about what she _actually was_ (pfft, as if ghosts existed), he’d never told Miss Lopez exactly what he was. That was, admittedly, a plan with a shelf life. In a decade or two, she’d press him about who is surgeon was or just start pestering him about the never aging bit, which, to be fair _was_ easier to deal with in an age of modern medicine. However, it also meant she assumed he was completely human and couldn’t drink out the entirety of the hotel’s bar _and_ do several kilos of coke without missing a beat.

He was no mortal, but she fussed over him as if he might drop dead from his eclectic consumption any minute.

Bloody hell, Sis owed him for always keeping up the charade.

“Dude, it’s already 1 p.m., so you probably should get showered. No, scratch that, you reek, get showered for sure cause, you know, you’re trying to be professional.”

He smirked at that. “You’re still bitter I didn’t adopt your new business card system. They weren’t me.”

“They were embossed and linen, and mine is awesome. Yours still just has the number and—”

Lucifer’s smirk broadened. “As if I were a stripper on call. Close enough, that detective’s life I saved last night described me, essentially, as a ‘medical hooker,’ ready for the highest bidder.” He shrugged and grabbed for seltzer water under his assistant’s watchful eye. “Can’t say she’s exactly wrong.”

“Anyway, boss, get showered and oh my God!”

He narrowed his eyes at her and just managed to keep them from going red. “Miss Lopez, you know I have only a few rules in this land of debauchery. Top among them is not mentioning my dad.”

She didn’t seem to hear him as she grabbed for his injured hand and peeled the gauze back. “Holy crap. Did you knick yourself with the scalpel? What happened?”

“It was an accident,” Lucifer offered. “Caught myself on that bloody car door that Maze’s fellow still has never fixed right. It’s nothing.”

“Dude, it looks like the Overlook lobby after the elevator doors opened. Let me clean it. I can’t believe you didn’t.”

“I was rather shattered when I got home,” he defended. “I did put pressure on it.”

Miss Lopez muttered to herself in angry Spanish, which she damn well knew _he spoke_ , but did it anyway. He tuned her out after she called him a moron for the third time. Coming back to him, she pulled out the peroxide and poured it over the crusted blood on his hand. Then, she brought up a fresh towel to wipe it clean. “You could have called me. I could have helped you. Or, you know, she’d be pissed and complain, but Charlotte would have come over and stitched it for you if you weren’t confident about doing a self-job. I mean, what’s the point of still keeping in touch with your old practice partner, if you can’t get stitched up out of the deal!”

“First, it was probably some time near five a.m. when I got home. Dear Charlotte has a family and fourteen hour work days. I didn’t wish to trouble her. Second, I was so knackered I passed out before thinking of calling _either_ of you.”

Miss Lopez shook her head. “You freaking idiot. It’s like I always say, you’re _not_ actually immortal, Morningstar. A gash like this could get infected and…whoa!”

He frowned down at his hand which, now that it had been scrubbed clean, was completely healed, as if the wound had never happened. That was great. It _should_ never have been injured in the first bloody place, and it shouldn’t have taken a few hours to paste itself back together. _That_ had to be the Detective’s fault somehow.

“Well, I suppose that wound wasn’t as bad as I thought in the wee morning hours.”

Miss Lopez’s frown deepened, and she leaned closer to his hand, to the forefinger’s tip which was still a bit pinker than the rest of his hand and should require stitches, had he been actually human. “That’s…uh…there should be a wound, boss.”

He shrugged and pulled his hand away. “Told you, dear Ella, I’m the devil. I have miraculous---well perhaps the opposite---but supernatural at either rate healing powers. Have you been paying attention the last few years?”

She frowned and her right hand stroked the crucifix she always wore around her neck. It was a testament to how fond he was not just of Azrael but of Miss Lopez herself that Lucifer kept her as an assistant with her unshakeable devotion to his father. And yet, he couldn’t send her away and didn’t find it insufferable as he did with so many professed believers. But it ached a little to see the instinctual reaction from her.

“Morningstar, you don’t have to be _that_ method.”

“I’m not an actor,” he replied. “I’m Old Scratch. It’s not my fault if you fail to grok that, dear.”

She snorted and opened up a can of Coke. Clearly, his assistant at least needed some caffeine as her drug of choice. “Whatever, but you should see if Charlotte has access to tetanus shots or get some for yourself. Hell, I’ll order one today. Last thing you’d want is lockjaw.”

He snorted as he made his way into the bedroom. Miss Lopez wasn’t wrong about him needing to clean up. “Darling, this mouth does too many wonderful things to render it slammed shut.”

“Ugh, noooope, _hermano_ , too early even at 1 for those jokes.”

He turned his head to wink at her. “But you love it.”

“Maybe, sometimes, I _tolerate_ it cause you’re still better than my four brothers. That said, I’m getting that vaccine ordered. You so do not want to get sick.”

“Can’t,” he chirped, hurrying to clean up. Thinking better of it. He called out from his room, “Miss Lopez, do call Mazikeen. I’ll be coming by her empire tonight. I do wish to discuss how her guy left my car last time.”

Even as he slipped into his bathroom to get undressed away from his assistant, he could _hear_ the utter exhaustion and disdain in her voice. “Maze is trouble, boss. She’s your supplier!”

“She’s my oldest friend, and she’s good people. She just happens to employ crap grease monkeys. Now, Miss Lopez, either get to work or join me.”

“Never gonna happen, Morningstar. Besides, I’m going to get you some actual food ordered. You’ll M.D. better on not just Tequila.”

Lucifer chuckled as he started up the shower. “So says you.”

“Dude, so says everyone. Tequila? So not part of the four food groups.”

When he slipped into the shower, Lucifer had to shake his head. Ella had been sent to him to keep her safe, and after he’d had a go at saving her life, he’d honestly have volunteered for the honor if Azrael hadn’t insisted. She was, in her own way, a rather infectious sort for a human. It was rare to find such unfiltered goodness and _joie de vivre_ anywhere. However, he sometimes wondered if it wasn’t really the _other_ way around. Perhaps after Miss Lopez’s misfortunes, his little Sis had also demanded he employ his current secretary so that Ella could keep an eye on him.

He couldn’t even say his sis was wrong.

Although, Miss Lopez was. While Patron wasn’t as delightful as a truly delectable Bloody Mary in the morning, it was certainly one of the finer food groups.

**

This was ridiculous.

He’d been stood at the Detective’s door for over five minutes with bag in one hand and the other poised over the wood as if knocking against it. He had been many things in his life: The Lightbringer, the (now retired) Lord of Hell, and even a damn brilliant surgeon. He was not scared of one woman. Even if there were even odds she was something _else_ too, and he really had made it a rule since dealing with Dream and his nuisance siblings not to get tangled up in the affairs of _others_ and that extended to other pantheons and only Dad knew what.

The whole détente was solved for him when she pulled open the door herself and jumped back in her shock to see him there.

“What the hell?”

“No, sorry, not living there currently,” he said, trying to brush off his faux pas. “I was about to knock, Detective. It’s half past two, and I wanted to make sure you were still doing well.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, her expression stony. “How long were you just waiting outside of my door?”

“I’ve just arrived.”

“Sure, okay, well, since you’re not actually the pizza guy, you can come in and give me the all clear. I hope he comes soon though because I’m starving.”

Lucifer shook his head even as he passed under the transom. “Detective, you need something with a nutritional value and, honestly, a high sugar content after losing such a frightful amount of blood. “Pizza won’t suffice.”

She laughed a little, and it heartened even if the Detective, despite his healing powers, seemed a bit pale. “You’re going to what? Be a full-service Dr. House _and_ Mary Poppins for me?”

“Hardly,” Lucifer said. “I don’t prefer Vicodin on the job. It’s only for after hours, love. However, point still stands.” He set his bag on the kitchen table and made a bee line for the fridge. It had a few cans of Gingerale and a box of baking soda in it. “Detective! What even is this farce? I thought you said you lived with your mum and Spawn. Do you all never eat?”

“No,” she said, pushing the refrigerator door shut. “Mom’s filming yet more vampire crap in Romania this month, and since I’ve been stressed on suspension Dan’s had Trixie. I’m the one picking her up later today. I was going to do the grocery shopping after we closed the Delilah case, but you can see that didn’t happen. Don’t worry, _doctor_ , I’ll get food on the way home from getting Trix from school.”

He shook his head and gestured to the kitchen table. “Do be a dear and take a seat. Did you at least order something with substance. Don’t tell us it was only all cheese.”

“Pepperoni and about every vegetable in the place plus a side salad.”

“Good,” he replied, taking a seat beside her and rolling up his shirt sleeves. “Also, don’t say it like that.”

“What?” she asked, suspicion toward his earlier flubbed entrance still seeming to cloud her gaze.

“ _Doctor_ , like it’s a private joke or euphemism. I have my license, same as any other sod working in California. And I do the conferences---believe me they’re terribly dull---for my continuing medical education yearly. I’m a doctor, and a bloody amazing one or you, darling, would be dead.”

She stilled then, some of the fight drained from her even as she slipped off her LAPD issued sweatshirt. Underneath, she’d been considerate enough to his pending visit to wear only a thin spaghetti strap camisole. It allowed him easy access to her wrapping and “wound” without her having to fully undress. He didn’t wish for that since it would make her uncomfortable. If she were actually recovering from such a wound and impromptu field surgery, it would be a necessity, but he knew she was rather uncomfortable with being bared to him.

He leaned closer and offered him his most sincere smile. Lucifer might work for the highest bidder, but he’d never been a slouch with bedside manner. The Detective, whatever else she might be, deserved that from him at least.

“Well,” he continued, peeling back her bandages. “That looks good, no signs of reddening, striations or pending infection. Cleanly healing. I’ll redress this and you should be able to keep it on for a week or so. I’ll come back if you insist and take the stitches out then. I assume you’re still not going to hospital, are you?”

She shook her head. “I need my job.”

“Why ever would a straight arrow like you be on probation?” he asked, pulling the materials from his bag and starting into the wound redressing. “I can’t imagine you’d ever ruffle any feathers, Detective. That ex-husband of yours, however, _that_ I can see.”

“We’re _still_ married,” she griped, flinching a little as he undid the medical tape.

He offered a genuine smile and sighed. “Sorry, darling, the tape is a bitch, but I did try to get it off as seamlessly as I could. Worst of it is over.”

“It doesn’t really hurt. I _still_ feel energized. Honestly, I hurt that shoulder on a stunt back for a Disney channel film when I was like seventeen. This stupid thing about teen motocross or whatever, and it tweaks at night, you know? Usually I need a heating pad. It’s felt better than it has in over a decade.” She frowned at him again. “What exactly did you do?”

“Well, I’m hardly a miracle worker on a regular basis.” Technically, true. The last person he’d used a feather on had been Miss Lopez due to a car accident over thirty years ago. “You’re just fortunate your separated spouse had me on speed dial. I’m brilliant at my work.”

“Yeah, great,” she said. “I dunno…I just…the wound should be deeper, shouldn’t it? I was pretty out of it, but I didn’t think being shot in the shoulder would be so mild. I honestly feel better than I did before I got shot.”

Perhaps his feather had overdone it a bit, not like it was an exact science.

“Do you care?” he asked. “You’re doing splendidly,” he said, cleaning her “wound” with saline solution and then a touch of iodine. “You’re going to make recovery and have a long and fortunate life with that offspring of yours.”

“Yes, that’s…I’m grateful, Lucifer, I am, but part of me still keeps thinking nothing adds up. Call it ‘detective brain.’”

He shrugged as he started layering the gauze over her stitches. “Yes, well, one should never looked a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Or a horse’s ass,” she said, smirking back at him. “But, uh, to answer your question. I might have punched Dan’s actual partner in the face when he started shit talking me at _The Paddock_. I shouldn’t have but it’s been months of bad treatment after Palmetto, and to have that jerk Malcolm Graham gloating to me in person, hinting that I’m _hysterical_ somehow. I saw red and slugged him. Broke his damn nose.”

Lucifer whistled. He didn’t think the detective had it in her. Oh, she was fierce and demanding, but a bar brawl seemed a bit beneath her standards. “Were either of you on duty at the time?”

“No, but Dan just managed to talk him out of pressing charges and Malcolm is part of the boys’ club. I’m _not_. So, I’ve been on a month’s suspension since the day after I questioned you about Delilah. If the force finds out I was also on scene for Jimmy…”

“Enough said. I merely worry that you should always check out with a second opinion. I know I’m the best, but some things do need a hospital touch, loathe as I am to endorse those places.”

“Weird thing for a doctor to say.”

“I’m an unusual sort of medic,” Lucifer added, grinning at her as he started cutting tape to help situate the gauze in place. “Detective Decker, if I might speak freely---”

She laughed so hard she snorted a little. It was oddly adorable, and what in Dad’s name was happening to him? “You always do. I’ve only talked to you three times, and there isn’t anything you won’t say.”  
  


“You don’t know me as well as you think,” he said softly.

He was open about his past and his clientele, within the bounds of privacy laws of course, and he never shied away from his carnal desires and advertising them. His true past, however, he allowed to stay vague. Lucifer would never directly lie about it, but he’d found over the years that humans wanted to believe only what was comfortable for them. If he spoke around the fact that he was quite literally the devil, then they’d agree with that as well. But no, the detective only knew what he wanted her to, as with everyone else.

Almost.

“Sure though, Morningstar, shoot.”

He nodded and finished taping everything in place as he spoke. “You seem to me to be a detective of notable instincts who threatens her colleagues by her sheer intellect and talent. You were the only detective I spoke with about Delilah who gave a good Dad damn, and you found Jimmy Barnes because of it. I have worked with Detective Douche before; there is no way he determined that Barnes was the true killer.”

The detective sighed. “Dan’s a good detective too.”

“Not as brilliant as you or as good, darling. They resent that about you, want to squash you down to their level. Don’t let them.” He finished the last of his ministrations and smiled back at her. “Good as new, then. You can put on your sweatshirt if you’d like.”

She nodded and did that, and he felt a bit bereft that she’d slid an additional layer of armor between them. “Good, I…seriously, how much does Dan owe you? There has to be another way to work that off. I mean, a non-illegal, platonic way.”

Lucifer put the medical waste in a separate plastic bag he’d brought for the occasion and gave her a throaty chuckle. “You’re the patient only, darling, and you can’t renegotiate the terms as I’ve explained. Daniel knew what he was doing when he made a deal with the Devil, and I expect my compensation as outlined. It does no one any good to try and stiff me. Won’t do at all.”

The detective stood and glared at him. “You’re not actually Satan.”

He got to his feet and, alright, perhaps loomed a bit over her. “But I am, Detective, and I demand my pound of flesh as it were. You’re not mad at me, after all. A businessman has to stay in business at any rate. You’re pissed that Espinoza’s a sordid sort of chap.”

“Dan is---”

“You know he’s not good, not as you are.”

“Dan made a mistake and shouldn’t have to dip into his 401k or whatever to pay you.” She surprised him by grabbing his wrist and leading him deeper into her mother’s home. Alright, so he let her drag him. She stopped by a large sideboard decorated with various awards and props from her mother’s semi-illustrious career. “Look, tell me what he owes you, and I can just Ebay one of mom’s things. She won’t mind, does it sometimes when she wants a new bit of surgery, and then you can take the money and Dan doesn’t have to…I honestly don’t want to know what.”

He eyed where she still had her fingers encircling his bare left wrist. “Quite noble, Detective, but the arrangement has been made. I’ve been doing deals with humanity for over six thousand years. I don’t plan to make exceptions. Do that, and the whole bloody system falls apart.”

She groaned and dropped his hand. “I don’t get you. Sometimes, I don’t know, the egomania and the walking sleaze aside---”

“Thank you, actually, two of my best qualities.”

“Besides _those_ , you seem like an amazing doctor and you’re nicer than my GP. But you are clearly not just an addict but utterly insane. You’re not the devil. He doesn’t exist.”

Lucifer laughed. “He’s standing right here, love, and he keeps his contracts. However, if you so desire it, I’ll never answer one of Espinoza’s calls again.”

“What?”

“Well, clearly it worries you that he’s called on me more than once for only Dad and I know what shady things and traumas. I can stop going if you’d like.”

“No, I…maybe it’s best if you still answer him if he calls. I don’t want Dan to…for Trixie’s sake, I want him to stay healthy on the job.”

“Yes, Trollop, that offspring of yours.”

“Trixie!”

“Right, still a terrible name. What kind of child deserves such an appellation?” He shrugged and moved back to the kitchen table. There was no reason to linger any longer. He’d see her in a week, and then keep to his resolve to stay as far away from whatever the fuck Chloe Decker was for his continued health. “Then that’s it, Bob’s your uncle and all that. I’ll be back in a week to remove the sutures as we’ve agreed. Detective---”

Her mobile rang, breaking up the tension in the room. She pulled it out and answered it. “Oh, Ms, Bernard, yes. She _what_? He didn’t come? Oh, of course. Yes, I’ll come right away. I’m so so sorry. I told her never to do that. I know, yes, this is the third time. I…right, I’ll be there in forty minutes.” She shut off her phone and cursed again under her breath. “I can’t believe Dan left her and forgot to pick her up.”

He couldn’t resist an opening. “Do you really now?”

“Can it, Morningstar. I have to go to the school and pick up my kid. She just got into a fight.”

“Ooh, takes after Mum, does she? Did she win?”

“She got into a fight with a kid a couple years ahead of her and now I’m in the doghouse as a bad parent. I gotta go.”

The humor drained from his expression and with still human speed, he made it to the hook for keys by her kitchen door and swept up her key chain. He held it over her head and smirked at her jumping for it like some yappy dog. “Now, now, Detective, to be quite clear, you are not allowed to drive. Your shoulder isn’t up to it, and with the blood loss you’ve had, you’re too dizzy to be a safe driver.”

“My kid needs me.”

“Yes, quite, well, it’s your lucky day, darling, because if there is a place I _never_ go, it’s an elementary school, prisons for spawn really, and they say I’m from Hell. However, I feel I should drive you. You cannot medically drive safely yourself.”

“You?” she scoffed, hopping again for her keys but falling short of his hand. “You shouldn’t be near anyone under eighteen.”

“I’ve always thought so, but I’ll have you know I have two god children.”

“You?”

“I can be appropriate if and when it suits. Now, Detective,” he said, slipping her keys into his front pocket and grabbing his satchel. “You can give us a thrill and rummage for your keys, or you can come with me and I’ll be the chauffeur for the afternoon. I’m up for either.”

She looked down at his trousers and seemed to realize exactly how tightly her preferred to wear them. Dad help her once she figured out he never wore underwear; it ruined the lines of the suit. Sighing, she backed away long enough to grab her purse from the sofa.

“Fine then, _Satan_ , lead away.”

He grinned and whistled jauntily. “Lovely, I knew you’d see it my way.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer meets Trixie and helps set a bully straight.

**Chapter Four**

He unclicked his seatbelt and started to slip out of his Corvette but was surprised when the detective beat him to the punch. She was already out of her side and racing around the car and toward the front entrance of the elementary school. Lucifer wasted no time getting out and caught up to her with two long strides.

“Oi, Detective, I thought we were a team on this.”

She glared at him. The ride over had been fraught. She’d spent most of it either trying to text the Douche, email the Douche, or finally getting him over the mobile to ream him out for not answering the front office first. Lucifer, for one of the few times in his long life, hadn’t gotten a word in edge wise. But now, the Detective was marching past him with the kind of purpose he’d seen before only with Maze on a hunt and it was both thrilling and a bit terrifying. He felt a shred of pity for the vice principal or whichever other pillock was going to be sitting her down for a meeting to discuss Trollop.

“You were just driving me here. It’s not _your_ kid, and I’m positive you have some coke or weed or both on your person right now.”

“Don’t be daft,” he said, reaching the door first and holding it open for his whirling dervish of a patient. “I keep that in my glove box. What do you take me for? An amateur?”

“I’m a _cop_.”

“Yes, but you’re a suspended one so you can do bugger all with that information, darling,” he said, winking at her. “Besides, you’ve had a huge shock to the system _just_ last night, and your vitals seem fairly strong, but blood loss and stress are poor bedfellows. I won’t go into your meeting with the administration. Let me just sit here and if anything happens, I’ll be on hand to take care of you,” he held up his medical bag for emphasis.

Despite her mission, the detective stopped beside a set of lockers and rounded on him. “Why do you even care? Dan’s paying you, you’re going to get your ‘pound of flesh’ as you like to call it, and now I’ve got a sidekick?”

“No,” he said, clenching his jaw a little before he continued. “That’s not what this is about. I’m responsible for you as a patient until I take the sutures out in a week. If you pass out in the middle of a school and get sent in the ambulance to a real hospital, then, end of the day, that’s bad for _both of us_. I merely want to honor my end of the contract, and I make sure you’re healthy until then. So, Detective, let us follow you, and I’ll sit on the bench and stay sat there till this is over and I can drive you and the spawn home. Alright?”

His tone was sharper than he intended it to be. Honestly, there wasn’t a good reason for him to be here. His feathers worked. They _always_ worked, and while he had to feign that she was more injured than she was for his secret’s sake and Azrael’s pact, he knew damn well that Chloe Decker was healthier right now than she’d ever been in her whole life. There was no reason for him to be trailing her, for him to face the horror of an elementary school, a place he’d sworn off since Charlotte’s offsprings’ last Christmas pageant---Dear Dad those were crimes against music that had threatened to destroy Lucifer’s very soul.

He simply wanted to.

And since Chloe Decker could harm him, at least by her very presence if not intentionally (jury was still out on that), this was the _last_ place on earth he should be. Yet…he couldn’t resist her.

Lucifer realized a beat had passed to long between them and he sighed, then straightened his cufflinks. “I’ll be on my actual best behavior. Not a peep, Detective. You’ve my word, and my word is my bond.”

She huffed. “Because you’re the Devil.”

“Right, now you’re getting it!”

“Fine, but only because I do not have time for this bullshit,” she said, turning back down the hall.

He kept pace with her easily and was glad for that. In this labyrinth of gray halls and hideous children’s drawings, he’d never have found where he was going on his own. When they got to the principal’s office, Lucifer was both furious and confused. On one bench was a girl who couldn’t have been more then seven if that with a split lip, one still bleeding. In the other bench, just opposite the principal’s door, was a girl who had to be going into middle school.

And may have been part wildebeest as well. He was unsure.

The detective knelt down before her offspring and hugged the child closely. “Trixie, you know you can text me if things are getting bad again at school. I would have come in today to see Principal Norris about this. You didn’t have to get into a fight.” When she pulled back a bit to stroke the girl’s bangs off her face, there was blood lingering on the corner of the Detective’s sweatshirt.

Lucifer fury was reaching Biblical levels at this point.

If the poor girl’s lip had been split bad enough to be bleeding for over an hour, then, like her mother, she’d require a bit of a stitch up as well. Yet the school had called and acted as if the trollop was the problem? How dare they.

“Mom, it’s okay, really.” And the urchin lisped a bit too.

As she talked, Lucifer could tell she was missing a couple of her front teeth. Again, she couldn’t be more than a first or second grader and the monster off to his right had to be a pre-teen. What kind of fight even was this? There was no honor in uneven odds, even a (former) angel and (more recently former) King of Hell knew that.

“No, Trixie, it’s not. Let me talk to the principal about this.”

Her daughter sat up straighter and beamed back at them both, her mouth still a bloody mess. “But I hit her in the no-no-touch-touch square so I won!”

Lucifer blinked, trying to ferret out what exactly that was till he simply turned and regarded the monster who’d attacked the detective’s spawn. He finally noted the ice pack the other girl had over her crotch.

He chuckled warmly at that. “Oh, then what a fierce little demon we do have here, after all. Trixie, you take after your mother, don’t you?”

The girl quirked her head at him. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“Yes, well, where are my manners,” Lucifer said, extending his hand to her and smiling more broadly when she shook it. “Lucifer Morningstar, and I’m your mother’s concierge for the week.”

“Her what?”

“Doctor, child. I’m helping take care of her, which is rather fortunate as you need a bit of a touch up yourself, don’t you?”

The urchin nodded but then stared wide-eyed at her mother. “Mommy, are you okay?”

“Just my shoulder, baby. It’s going to be okay. Lucifer’s a good doctor.”

Trixie considered that, her little forehead scrunching up as she looked between him and her mother. “Wait…Lucifer _like the devil?_ ”

He grinned and sat next to her on the bench and pulled his medical satchel into his lap. “The very same. Oh, detective, I think I like Trollop quite a bit. She’s already understanding who I am better than you.”

The detective rolled her eyes at him. “You sit and look after her please. Baby, I’m going to talk to the principal now. You be good.” She turned her focus from both of them to regard the girl on the other bench. “You, Mona. I don’t care how important your dad is at Wheeler Law. This is going to stop, you hear me?”

The older girl---and who got off on hurting practically kindergartners---shrugged. “That’s what everyone says. Cops don’t make much. I really don’t think you want my dad to countersue.”

The detective started to say something else, but it was then that the principal’s secretary called her in, and he was left alone with the spawn and the perpetrator, which honestly, held its own appeal because with Amenadiel on the throne it had been an awfully long time since he’d punished a sinner.

There was a special circle of Hell just for bullies after all.

“What’s a trollop?” the girl asked.

He sighed again and set his bag between them. “Never you mind or, better yet, ask your father. Something tells me that he’ll know that one. Is ‘Trixie’ your real name?”

“Beatriz, like my grandma.”

Right the detective had mentioned that at some point, hadn’t she?

“Well, then, Beatriz is a far lovelier moniker.”

The girl giggled and her lower lip bled a bit even now. Lucifer would have to stitch that right up but one other thing was more pressing first. “You talk funny.”  
  


“Well, I’m rather old so that helps build a vocabulary,” he added. Looking over his shoulder, he was pleased to note that the hallway was empty. Perfect. “Beatriz, would you indulge me a moment?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“A game then. Can you cover your eyes for me?”

“Sure, is this like hide and seek?”  
  


“Something like that,” he admitted. “But don’t dare move your hands till I say so. Do you understand?”

“Okay! What do I win?”

“I suppose I have an extra hundie in my pocket somewhere, child. Will that suffice?”

“A hundred dollars? That’s like 20 allowances!”

“You need to ask for a pay raise, offspring,” Lucifer added. “Now, be a good girl, Beatriz, and cover up tight.”

She did as she was told, and he stood up from the bench and approached the other girl.

The little miscreant glared at him; it might have been moderately effective on a regular bloke, but even then the ice pack ruined the tough girl image, she was trying to project. “Get away weirdo.”

“Mean girl,” he said, letting his voice take on the pitch and multi-tonal register of the Devil he was. “Look at me.”

When he asked _like that_ , humans really had no choice but to comply.

Even with her eyes wide open in fear and her breath shallow, the girl stared directly at him. And Lucifer called his true face to the surface, that damn final punishment from Father that allowed him to do his job so perfectly. She wasn’t screaming. Good, that would be rather inconvenient. But the girl shook, oh she shook so hard that he worried she might clench her jaw too hard and chip teeth.

“Mean girl, listen, there’s a special corner of Hell for bullies. Did you know that?”

“N…no,” she chattered out.

“Yes, well, I’ll remember this, and I’ll make sure my idiot brother has a special plan set up for you.” He grinned wider. “Beatriz Espinoza is under _my_ protection now, and I suggest you never touch so much as a hair on her head again. In fact, if you want to avoid my former realm, period, you should stop bullying anyone. I assure you, child, I don’t give a toss who your father’s a barrister for.”

He stood up to his full height and willed his hellish countenance away. Taking a deep breath, he even straightened out his cufflinks before turning back to Beatriz.

The child was studying him with rapt attention. “That was so cool!”

He blinked between the now catatonic bully and the detective’s offspring. “I beg your pardon?”

“I told Mom! Of course, you’re the real Devil! Your name is Lucifer after all.”

He blinked again and the gears in his brain seemed stuck with gunk catching in the gears of his mind. “I…you looked?”

“Yup! The horns are just like in cartoons and stuff!”

Lucifer flicked non-existent lint from his lapel and sat down beside the child on the bench, a bit shocked after seeing _everything_ she let him. “I thought we had a deal, spawn. I was to give you a hundred dollars, and you were going to keep your eyes covered.”

“I got bored.”

_Oh, for Dad’s sake…_

“It’s considered poor form to welch on the Devil, child. Normally, I’d enforce a penalty for that.” He opened his satchel and pulled out his pen light. “Beatriz, look at this for me, would you?”

She nodded and complied this time. “Why?”

“Well, I’m checking for a concussion, first off. In case when Mona struck you, she did damage, but your pupils are reacting normally.” He sighed and sat the light down and then reached for his peroxide. “Honestly, I was also checking for shock. That’s what happens the majority of the time a human sees what I can actually do.”

“Why? It’s so cool!”

“Yes, you said that already,” he huffed, pouring the liquid onto fresh gauze and mopping at her wound. Fortunately, the split in her lip wasn’t as bad as the gushing would have suggested. She’d need a few stitches, if she would let him do that at home, then they could skip blasted urgent care or, worse, being at hospital altogether. “I can’t believe you looked. Is there no honor among people anymore?”

Beatriz frowned even as he wiped at her wounds. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m a bit cross. You were assuredly _not_ to see that.” He sighed and reached for some lidocaine as well. “I want to numb this, child. It’ll feel funny, like your lip fell asleep or maybe a little prickly, but it’ll keep you from feeling much pain till I can get you back to your gran’s and do a proper stitch up.”

“But it won’t hurt?”

“Just feel funny,” he admitted. “Honestly, your lip will feel better than it does now.”

“Okay!” she said. “I trust you.”  
  


He paused. No one had ever said that to him. Mazikeen had served him for eons in Hell but there were the occasional power games even from her that demons tended to play. He held no ill will for that. When you were immortal, occasional cycles of betrayal and forgiveness popped up. Ella said it to him, but she didn’t _really know_. Perhaps Charlotte came closest, but it was so odd to hear it from a child. He really had to talk to the detective; she must have broken this one somehow or not trained her up in understanding stranger danger.

Yes, that was it. Beatriz Espinoza, was far too trusting for her own good.

He sprayed the lidocaine on her and then handed her a freshly cleaned towel he’d placed in his bag just this morning. “Here, keep pressure on the cut. It’s mostly stopped bleeding now, child, but this will help till we get you home.” Lucifer shook his head even as he cleaned everything up and set his satchel right again. “You shouldn’t, you know.”

“Huh?” she mumbled through the towel.

“Trust me. I’m the Devil, remember? You’re not supposed to trust me. Have you never been to church, offspring? They love railroading me there.”

“My abuelos take me sometimes with Daddy. I dunno…it sounded it sad.”

“Well, yes, church is rather boring, and Mass far more taxing.”

“No, I mean, your dad kicked you out.” She patted his knee. “I heard that part before. My dad just left and that’s really hard. I think he and Mommy will get back together, but it must be tons worse when your dad says you can’t come back.” She whimpered a little, and Lucifer didn’t really understand human children, despite his limited exposure to Charlotte’s. How in Dad’s name had she jumped so many tracks in the logic train so quickly. “Do you think my dad might kick me out some day too?”

_Dear Dad help him…_

He reached out and awkwardly patted the urchin’s back. His hand took up most of the space there, and this one really was small. What on earth had that miscreant on the other bench even been thinking? Reminded him of how his brothers, the other archangels, had often picked on the youngest host like Uriel or Azrael. He’d never brooked to any of that, even back when he was still a real angel and not a sullied as he was now.

“I…please don’t cry, spawn. Save the water works for your mum. I’m terrible with them.”

“I know, but I…sometimes I’m scared they won’t stop being separated or that Dad’s really mad with me.”

Lucifer didn’t lie, and he didn’t know Detective Douche very well. However, he had called him for his services and vowed to procure forty grand by rook or crook to save the detective and, thusly, Beatriz’s mum. Lucifer suspected that said a lot about Espinoza’s frame of mind and that, yes, deep down, the lesser detective wanted to and expected to reconcile with Chloe and his child sooner rather than later.

“My father is singularly awful, child.”

“My abuela says that---”

“Yes, let’s skip the Catechism, shall we?”

“Oh.”

“Yes, well, your dad called me when your mum got hurt the other night on the job. I’m very expensive, and I’m the best, so clearly your father cares about your mum and you too, very much. I don’t know if your parents will reconcile. Mine didn’t.”

“There’s a goddess?” And her eyes were so very wide. Was that normal?

“You ask a preponderance of questions. But yes, and she’s rather complicated.” And being tortured by Amenadiel in Hell currently. “However, I think he cares about your mum and you a lot, so that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Beatriz nodded and then shocked the hell out of him by snuggling into his arm as tightly as a limpet. “I think so! You’re good at this.”

“At what now?”

“At hanging out with kids. You should do it more often. I mean, church didn’t say the Devil was nice.”

“I’m _not_ nice. I’m evil. That’s just a fact, child.”

She giggled, and he knew he was going to have to write his suit off. It wasn’t going to make it out of today without it being covered in both blood and general offspring stickiness. “No, you’re pretty cool, Lucifer.”

“What on earth?” the detective said as she came out from the meeting with the principal and the the secretary trailing behind her. She looked from him with the urchin half buried against his side but, at least, patched up a bit and with a compress for her split lip, and the still trembling yet silent Mona.

Maybe he’d broken that one a bit.

Maybe he didn’t care. Scratch that; Lucifer _definitely_ didn’t give a toss on that miscreant’s behalf. Let her father sue him. That would be a good laugh.

“What happened?” the detective demanded.

Lucifer sighed. “Mona and I had a serious talk about why bullying is wrong. Didn’t we, Mona?”

The girl shook more but said nothing.

It was Beatriz, of all people, who backed him up, and she was more like Espinoza than her mother, Lucifer could tell from her silver tongue and flexible ethics already. “Yep, he reminded Mona that sometimes bullies go to Hell, and she should be nicer to me.”

Lucifer waited a beat, not sure if the urchin would go further and reveal his secret. She didn’t but did eye him slyly after her mother’s attention was turned back to a few terse words with the principal. The conspiratorial wink was rather appreciated.

“Alright, I don’t even…I’m sure I’ll be getting a letter from Wheeler Law soon enough.”

Lucifer stood, not even surprised to find the offpsring’s somewhat sticky hand sliding into his own. “Oi, I can help with that. I’d _relish_ that chance.”

“No, no more favors, Lucifer. I…just get to the car,” the detective demanded, eying the shaking bully one last time. “And I don’t want to even know. To the car, march!”

“As you wish,” he said, strolling out with his bag over his shoulder and the little limpet clinging to his leg now.

And he noted it as something else odd about Chloe Decker. Her presence hurt him by proximity, but he _couldn’t_ affect her, and her offspring clearly didn’t react to the infernal as she was supposed to. Curious. Yes, perhaps demigod should be on the top of his list of suspects. Maybe Loki had gotten lonely again and sired random spawn. Who even knew?

But it was going to be interesting sussing it all out.

  



End file.
